The Madwoman's Underclothes; by Germaine Greer.

Some pieces are about a personal discovery of a fortunate nature, if only everyone were so fortunate - the remote village in Italy where children do not cry and need not toys, for one.

Some are rather a rap on the knuckles, and for good reason - the westerners who travel and live around the world with poor people, sharing their lives, with a subconscious secure knowledge that they can escape any time, and go back to a life of more, while those that shared their own precious little food with them will be then not sharing the comparative riches of the guests.

Some are perplexing, like the one related to underclothing, until she casually later in another piece mentions it was written as a sarcasm or spoof, in jest.

What it never is, any of these pieces of her writing, is boring or dull or anything less than intelligent andas a norm they are all thought provoking.